


Life and Times of Maisie McGonagall

by kayewrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayewrites/pseuds/kayewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1991 and young Maisie McGonagall is beginning her adventure at Hogwarts. As the grand niece of the Transfigurations professor, Minerva McGonagall, many believe that she’ll get a free pass. If anything, it makes that class much more difficult! Between accusations of favoritism, dealing with separation anxiety, inter-house rivalry and friendships, and attempting to do well in all her classes. . . Well, Maze has a lot to handle in her first year!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life and Times of Maisie McGonagall

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series.

It was late July, on a particularly cool and breezy day, when young Maisie McGonagall and her mother Sylvia decided to go to Diagon Alley for a most anticipated trip. Eleven year old Maisie had received her acceptance letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry just a few days earlier, but had to wait until the weekend for her mum to be able to take her. Unfortunately, at the last minute, Sylvia’s supervisor, Mr. Dobbins, had scheduled a meeting regarding the funding for the woman’s recent project at the Department of Mysteries. Which ultimately meant that she would have to cut their trip to Diagon Alley short, to the utter dismay of the young girl.

The somewhat tall, but slightly pudgy, bespectacled woman held the hand of her much shorter, but also slightly pudgy, daughter as they navigated the crowd in the streets of Diagon Alley. Sylvia and Maisie both felt overwhelmed amongst crowds - too many people, often too loud, and various strangers entering their personal space. This trip proved to be no different and they each squeezed each other's hand as some sort of reassurance as they pushed through the multitude of wixen. 

“I have two hours to spare before I have to leave for that meeting. So, first, we need to stop by Gringotts so that we can get money out of our vault and then we can get a few things on the list of yours.” Sylvia said as she gently pulled Maisie off to the side of the street and away from the crowd.

Maisie looked up at her mum and nodded in agreement before turning her head towards the seemingly never-dispersing crowd of strangers. “Alright. . .” She said quietly. ‘ _The list says that I have to get my wand last. . . Mum’ll have to miss that. . .’_ thought Maisie as she chanced a glance up at her mum. ‘ _She’s always so busy. . .’_

Sylvia knew her daughter was upset about her having to cut their trip short, but she just couldn’t afford to say ‘No’ to her supervisor. “I’m sorry, dear. You know I am. If I could say no to him, I would, but I can’t. I need this job - _we_ need this job. You know that just as much as I do.”

The young girl’s reaction was near instantaneous. Overwhelming guilt. Guilt for being upset over her mother having to leave early. Guilt for being _a selfish little bint._ Maisie frowned as she tried to shoo the thoughts away. Instead, she gripped her mother’s hand tighter and said, “I know, mum. . . Lets just go to Gringotts and get it over with. . .”

And so they did. The two made their way, hands locked together, through the crowd to the snow-white, multistory building standing at the end of the street. Maisie had only been in Gringotts once before, years ago, and she didn’t quite remember the visit. Just that it was ran by Goblins and that these Goblins had frightened her as a child. Not surprising really, what with their beady black eyes that seemed to be watching your every move as if you’re going to rob the place. They all seemed imposing to a young girl like Maisie.

As they walked up to the building, Maisie noticed the particularly white stairs that led up to a bronze door. She noticed because standing next to the bronze door was a goblin dressed in a uniform of scarlet and gold colors. The goblin had long, pointed ears and an equally long and pointed nose, paired with slanted, beady black eyes. It’s eyes narrowed as Maisie and her mom walked up the steps, as if silently judging their character. When it made no move to stop them from entering the building, Maisie let out a silent breath of relief - they just made her so nervous and she was nervous enough as it is!

Inside, once they got past the second door - also guarded by goblins - the mother and daughter duo made their way through the hall filled with long and tall counters. Doors along the furthest walls inside the hall led to the vault passageways that went on for miles below the surface. 

Sylvia, still holding her daughter’s hand, walked up to a counter to speak with one of the goblins in charge of the vaults. “Hello, my daughter and I are here to withdraw money from our vault.”

* * *

 

With a small pouch, newly filled with the galleons, sickles, and knuts needed to get the young girl’s supplies, Sylvia and Maisie quickly left Gringotts. Once outside, Maisie eagerly took a breath of fresh air, leaning her head against her mother’s side in fatigue. That mine cart system they had in place might have been an interesting concept, but that didn’t prevent one from becoming nauseous.

Noticing her daughter’s movement, Sylvia looked down at the brown-haired girl and gave a closed mouth smile. “Tired already, sweetie?” She asked as she placed her left hand on top of her daughter's head. Maisie nodded against Sylvia’s side, not bothering to give her mother a verbal confirmation.

“That mine cart can certainly take a lot out of you, but we haven’t even started Maisie. Come on, let’s get to Madam Malkin’s and get your robes.” Sylvia said as she removed her hand from the top of her daughter’s head, instead going to grab her daughter’s right hand.  Maisie whined as she moved her head away from her mother’s side, frowning once again as they moved away, hand in hand, from the impossibly white steps and building.

Sylvia and Maisie made their way down the street they had originally come from, and while the crowd seemed to have died down there were still too many people around for Maisie’s liking. _‘I should really get used to them. I’m going away to a school full of - well, actually I’ll have Timothy, and Aunt Minnie, but other than them I’ll be surrounded by strangers!! Oh, I should have just let mum home-school me. I’ve never been away from her for more than a day or two. . . but if I go, I won’t see her until Christmas!’_ Maisie thought, and gripped her mother’s hand tighter. _‘If only she could come with me.’_

But Maisie knew that would never happen. The two would be parted come the 1st of September, and she would have to deal with it, whether she liked it or not. Maisie couldn’t help but look up at her mum then. The curly, brown-haired witch was paying attention to what was in front of her - not to her more than slightly anxious daughter.

‘ _I hope she’ll be alright. . . I know that she needs me just as much as I need her. I mean, I know she’s already a workaholic, but once I’m at Hogwarts? Well. . . I just hope that she’ll take care of herself,’_ Maisie thought before she looked back to the crowd and down the street.

Eventually, they stopped in front of Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Sylvia gently nudged her daughter to go inside, and let go of her hand. After a quick look up to her mother’s face, Maisie complied and entered the shop with Sylvia entering after her.

“Welcome, ladies, come in, come in, I’m sure we have your size!”

* * *

 

After the visit to Madam Malkin’s, Maisie was the new owner of: three sets of plain, black robes; a pointed black hat; one pair of protective dragonhide gloves; and one black winter coat with silver fastenings - all with tags showing ‘MAISIE I. R. McGONAGALL’ in black font.

Maisie placed her small, recently-lightened coin pouch in her magically expanded brown satchel that which hung off her right shoulder, before quickly grabbing her mother’s hand once more.

“So, Robes and such are done. . . what’s next. . . Do you want to go get your books from Flourish and Blotts or do you want to stop at the Magical Menagerie?” Sylvia asked as she looked down through her black-framed glasses at her daughter, who in turn watched the crowd in front them with a frown. However, at hearing the words ‘Magical Menagerie’, Maisie looked up at her mother’s face in confusion.

“I already have Dad’s screech owl, Crios, why would I need another pet?” She asked, her thick, brown eyebrows still scrunched up in confusion. Sylvia flinched, and quickly tried to cover it up, at the mention of Maisie’s father, Malcolm - he’d been dead and gone for nearly ten years now, but his death would always feel fresh to her.

Maisie was just over a year old when Malcolm and the Prewett twins fought a group of five death eaters. According to Alastor Moody, they had all fought like heroes. Lot of good that did them, though - they were all dead, and two had left behind grieving wives and infant daughters.

Thinking on the Prewett twins, Sylvia remembered that the one, Fabian was it? Well, he had married his longtime sweetheart, Dorcas Meadowes, and had a girl whose name started with a ‘D’ like her mother. _‘What was it. . .  Denise? No. . .  Hmm. . . Donna? No, that doesn't sound right. . . Debra, maybe? Yes, I think it was Debra.’_

The young Dorcas Meadowes had been killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself just a few months after the Prewett twins and Sylvia’s husband, Malcolm McGonagall, were killed, which ultimately left their girl, Debra, an orphan. ‘ _I wonder what happened to her. . .If she was sent to Dorcas’ parents or siblings, or was she sent to Molly? Oh, Molly, I haven’t seen her in years! I’ll have to remember to owl her when I have the chance.’_

Shaking her head of the distracting thoughts, Sylvia cleared her throat and said, “Well, Crios is getting up there in age. And he’s an owl, dear, you can’t very well curl up with him at night or keep him in your dorm either. So I thought I’d get you a cat, if that’s alright?”

Maisie looked back out to the crowd, lips pursed in thought. _‘She has a point. I’ll probably have a tough time getting to sleep. . . I’ll need something to mellow me out enough for bedtime. Cuddling with a kitty does sound like a pretty good solution. . . And I_ have _been wanting a kneazle hybrid. . . I wonder if they have any in stock?’_  Maisie nodded to herself, having come to her own conclusion, and looked back up at her mum.

“Yeah, I suppose. I’d rather have a kneazle though. They’re super intelligent and can detect bad or untrustworthy people, so yeah, I’d rather have one of those or a hybrid of some sort?” Phrasing it as a question, Maisie continued to look up at her mother with hopeful, hazel eyes.

Sylvia gave a small smile at her daughter’s sudden onslaught of words. Maisie was a normally quiet child, especially out in public like they were, but if you brought up a topic that actually interested her or where she had some sort of knowledge on the topic at hand, well you’d be hard pressed to get her to shut up. It always warmed her heart when those moments happened, as her daughter was prone to bouts of prolonged pensive moods.

Nodding, Sylvia grabbed her daughter's hand and made to move away from Madam Malkin’s shop. “After this, I’m afraid we’ll have to head to Florean’s to meet up with your Aunt Moira. Her message said that your Uncle Gareth had business to attend to so he won’t be there. I’m not sure how long my meeting with Mr. Dobbins will be, but I should be home in time for supper. If not, there’s leftovers in the fridge that you can heat up in the microwave.”

Sylvia, having been brought up by muggles, wanted her daughter to be brought up at least somewhat used to muggle things like fridges and tellies. Ultimately, it made things much easier when raising Maisie on her own, especially if Sylvia had to work late or come into work on a day off. As terrible as it was, Maisie was used to being home alone for much of the day, or staying at a relative's home instead. In fact, she quite liked being home alone, well, at least most of the time. It allowed her some peace and quiet, it also allowed her to watch films over and over again without her Mum making some harmless, throwaway comment like ‘Again? Don’t you ever get bored of it?’.

Maisie simply nodded at her mother’s words, already knowing that they’d have to meet up with Aunt Moira eventually and already knowing what to do if Mum didn’t make it home for supper. The girl also knew that her Uncle Gareth was as much of a workaholic as her own mum, if not worse, so she didn’t really expect to see him today.

She would likely end up watching one of her films. Maisie, ironically enough, loved the film ‘The Witches’, based on the book of the same name by author Roald Dahl, that was released the year prior. It was one of many films that she had come to watch over and over again.

The ends of their robes - Maisie wore dark green and black colored robes, while Sylvia wore dark red and black colored robes - billowed out behind them as they made their way through the crowd once more. It took them but a minute to get to the Magical Menagerie, as the building was fairly close to Madam Malkin’s. 

Inside the shop, the space was cramped and noisy while the walls were lined with cages. Maisie lingered near the door, having let go of her mother’s hand seconds before, and was inspecting the area around her. ‘ _This is no place for animals, let alone people! This isn’t a comfortable place at all, those poor animals,’_ thought Maisie, her mouth down-turned as she looked at each and every cage.

At the back of the shop was a counter and behind the counter was a short, grey-haired and bespectacled woman - the proprietor of the shop, evidently. Maisie cast a glare at the woman before going over to the side to personally inspect the cages. 

“Welcome to the Magical Menagerie! My name is Perissa Ingram, how may I help you, dears?”

Sylvia walked up to the counter to speak with the woman, while Maisie continued her inspection of the animal cages and of the animals inside them as if she hadn’t even heard the older woman speak. Not even a minute had passed before Maisie quickly noticed that the cages themselves were actually magically enhanced so that the inside would be bigger than the outside, and so the animals inside the cages would have plenty of space to move around and live in. The girl instantly felt more at ease, not to mention was impressed by it, and moved to stand beside her mother.

“Hello there, my daughter and I were wondering if you had any Kneazle-Cat hybrids in stock?” Sylvia asked in a clear, level voice, with a small friendly smile on her face.

“Ah, yes, one of our Kneazles mated with a purebred Himalayan cat and gave birth to a litter of hybrids just a few months ago. We still have two left from that litter, if you’ll follow me to their cage.”

Sylvia and Maisie followed Ms. Ingram over to one of the many cages littered along one of the walls. Inside this particular cage were two hybrids. Both were rather long-haired, but they each had a different coat. The furthest hybrid was bigger than the other, had a ginger-colored coat, orange eyes, and one could swear that it had ran headlong into a brick wall for it’s face looked a bit squashed. It’s sibling was closer to the front of the cage. It was smaller in size, had a mostly white coat with speckled ginger and grey colors spread along it’s fur, yellow eyes which seemed to have orange specks towards the bottom of them, and it too had a rather squashed looking face.

“I would rather not separate them, but I understand that it can’t be helped sometimes,” said the grey-haired woman as she paced her hand on the front of the cage, and stared at Sylvia.

“Yes, well, unfortunately, I have a very busy work schedule and am unable to care for any pets, and I think just one of these would be enough for my daughter to have. So, Maisie, which one do you want?” Sylvia asked as she looked over to her daughter who had been staring intently at the hybrid closest to the front of its cage.

Maisie raised her hand to point at the one she was staring at, “The white and speckled one, please.”

* * *

 

Sylvia, Maisie, and Nemea - the newly acquired female kneazle hybrid - made their way out of the Magical Menagerie. Maisie gently, but firmly, held Nemea in her arms as she pet the half-kneazle behind her ears, a small smile formed on the young girl’s face when she heard the content purrs coming from the animal; the girl was quite oblivious outside of the purring thing in her arms.

Sylvia smiled openly at her daughter while adjusting her black-framed glasses to sit better on the bridge of her nose. “She seems to have taken quite the shine to you.”

Maisie wordlessly nodded, before realizing that her mother was talking to her. She slowly looked up from the half-kneazle to look up at her mother. “Are we going to Florean’s now?” The hazel-eyed girl asked quietly before looking back down at her new pet.

A heavy sigh escaped from Sylvia’s mouth before she could stop it. She hated that she had to miss out on her daughter getting her first wand, and Sylvia would most likely beat herself up over it for years to come. But it couldn’t be helped.

“Unfortunately, yes. Moira and the kids should already be there.”

Maisie nodded in response while pointedly not looking at her mother as she continued petting Nemea behind her ears, under her chin, and the fur between her eyes, all with a gentle hand.

Realizing that her daughter likely wouldn’t say anything, Sylvia frowned slightly before putting her left arm around the girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, you know. I truly am. But these things happen when you get older; a higher-up keeping you at work for overtime, being called into work on a day-off, spontaneous meetings about funding for a project. It sucks terribly, but I do what I have to do in order to keep a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and clothes on our backs. You understand that, don’t you?”

A quick nod from the girl was all Sylvia needed before she gently nudged her daughter to start walking towards the ice cream parlour.

* * *

 

Sitting at a small, round table in front of the ice cream parlour were three people: A woman  with fair skin, looking to be in her early thirties with dark brown hair pulled into a low bun; An equally fair-skinned boy, ten or eleven years old, with short, lighter brown hair; and a girl, eight or nine years old, with the same brown hair of her mother but was worn down instead of up, and while she had the same fair skin, one could also see dark freckles lining her cheeks.

The young girl with the freckled face was the first to spot Sylvia, Maisie, and Nemea the half-kneazle.

“Auntie Sylvie!!!” The girl yelled in a high-pitched voice that made Maisie cringe and take an instinctive step back, protectively holding Nemea against her chest.

“Hush now, Imogen. Sylvia, it’s been awhile since we’ve seen you. How’ve you been?” Asked the other woman, Aunt Moira as she was known by Maisie.

Sylvia inclined her head, “Busy, life as an Unspeakable has been keeping me very busy, Moira. And yourself? Last I heard, you were attempting to breed Unicorns with Thestrals, any luck so far?”

Moira blanched at the reminder of that failed experiment, but quickly rearranged her features into a neutral expression, “Ah, no not yet.” She looked over at her niece, who was attempting to hide behind her mother to avoid the hyperactive Imogen.

“Imogen, come over here please and _sit down._ Maisie, dear, how have you been?” 

The youngest of the group frowned and stalked over to her mother before loudly plopping down onto one of the chair set at the table - arms crossed, and a rather petulant look on her face as she stared over at her brother. The girl’s brother, Timothy, sat silently at the table, waiting for the conversation to die down before he gave his greetings.

Maisie creeped out from behind her mother’s shadow, her pet still firmly in her arms, “Er. . . Just fine, Auntie. Mum bought me Nemea here, isn’t she beautiful?” She asked, a large smile gracing her face as she showed off the kneazle mix. Nemea purred happily at the statement, as if agreeing with her new owner and thanking her for the praise. Looking up at her aunt, smile still splayed on her face, “She’s a hybrid, auntie! They breed them all the time, you know.” She paused, almost thoughtfully, and if one paid attention they’d see the mischievous twinkle in her hazel eyes, “Oh, but if you’re having trouble with your Unicorns and Thestrals breeding, maybe you could ask them how they get different species to breed?”

Sylvia quickly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing - oh, her _sweet, lovely daughter._ Moira’s eyes looked to be size of saucer plates at the young girl’s statements, “A-Ah, well, u-uh, Maisie, dear, it’s. . . it’s completely different, you know. Unicorns and Thestrals are. . .  well, they’re different from _Kneazles_ and _cats_. It’s a much more. . . complicated matter.”

The girl gave a small shrug of her shoulders, “I don’t know, Auntie, doesn’t seem all that complicated to me. But, whatever you say.” And with that, Maisie gave a small nod and went to go sit next to her cousin, Timothy.

Out of all her cousins, Timothy had to be her favorite. They were born just a few months apart, but it wasn’t just the similar age that drew the two together. Timothy was a quiet, thoughtful boy who rarely raised his voice in anger or frustration. He wasn’t loud or obnoxious like his younger sister, or like their many cousins. Maisie and Timothy were of a similar temperament, and as such they had stuck together like glue during family dinners or outings.

Timothy gave a nod and a small smile as acknowledgment, to which Maisie returned with a slightly larger smile before pointing to the purring fluffball in her arms. “Timothy, this here is Nemea.”

Before the boy could say ‘Hello’ to the half-Kneazle, the girl’s mother spoke up. “Maisie, sweetie, I have to leave now, alright? Be good for Moira, yeah?”

The smile quickly turned to a frown as Maisie looked over at her mother. She stood up from the table and quickly walked over to Sylvia, placing Nemea on the ground on the way, and throwing her arms around her mother’s torso in a tight hug.

“Love you, Mum. Good luck with the funding.” Maisie whispered against her mother’s torso, loud enough for her mother to hear but quiet enough that her aunt would be unable to. Sylvia rubbed her daughter’s back in circles, trying to comfort and calm the girl.

“I love you too, Maisie. Have fun, and be sure to tell me all about the rest of your day when I get home, alright?” Placing a quick peck on the top of Maisie’s head, Sylvia parted from her daughter. And as quick as one could snap their fingers, Sylvia was gone. The sound of a loud crack filled their ears, and then nothing but the sounds of the strangers walking by and talking amongst themselves.

After a pause, Maisie picked the half-kneazle up off the ground, giving her a tight squeeze, before moving back over to the group.

Moira, having quickly moved on from the young girl’s earlier smart remarks, was quick to clap her hands and get the children’s attentions. “Alright, Timothy, all you have left to get is your wand. Maisie, you still have your books, other equipment, AND your wand to get. So, let’s get some ice cream while we’re here, and then we’ll head back over to Flourish and Botts, then to Wiseacre’s, before going over to Ollivanders. That sound alright to you guys?”

With a chorus of “yeah” all around, Moira smiled. “Alright, sit tight while I go in and order.”

* * *

Maisie was very much a fan of books. New books, old books, books that had a mind of their own, books that had a unique smell to them, books that sometimes went invisible - she loved them all. While she preferred fiction, Maisie wasn’t averse to reading educational books. In fact, she probably had an equal amount of fictional and educational books back at home. Whether they were of muggle origins or wixen origins, it didn’t matter. Books were books.

So, when she stepped into Flourish and Botts with her aunt and cousins, Maisie immediately felt at home. Her shoulders, normally tight and raised, began to slouch as she relaxed in the shop.

Imogen was grasping her mother’s hand as they entered the shop, much like Maisie herself had gripped her own mother’s hand earlier in the day. Maisie and Timothy followed closely behind the mother and daughter duo.

Maisie pulled out her supply list - the various parts of her uniform scratched off - to look over what books she’d be needing;

  1. _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ by Miranda Goshawk
  2. _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot
  3. _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling
  4. _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch
  5. _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore
  6. _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger
  7. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander
  8. _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble



These would be the same books that she, Timothy, and every other first year would be needing to get.

But there was one book that she had planned to get along with the others - Hogwarts, A History. Maisie was going to a strange new place that would act as her secondary home. She wanted to know everything about it.

So, sneaking away from her group, she started to browse the shelves off to the side that were stacked to the ceiling. There were just _so many_ books: leather-bound books larger than your head, silk-covered books as small as the palm of your hand, some books had peculiar looking symbols, while others had nothing in them at all.

After several minutes of searching, Maisie finally found the book she was looking for, but as she reached to grab it, another hand shot in front of hers and grabbed it for themselves. Startled, Maisie stepped back and looked at the person who’d taken the book.

A girl perhaps around Maisie’s own age with auburn hair, brown eyes, a wide mouth, and freckles littering her face stood off to the side, realizing that Maisie had been reaching for the same book.

“Oh, sorry, were you grabbing for Hogwarts, A History as well? You can have this copy, I’m sure they have more. It’s just that I’m headed there in September, and I wanted to be prepared. Will you be a first year as well? I’m hoping I get into Gryffindor, my whole family is or was in that house, but I’d be content with any of the other houses as well. What’s your name? My na-”

The talkative girl was quickly cut-off by the voice of a middle-aged woman. “Debra, where are you? We’ve got your books, dear, come on.”

The girl started, “Oops, that’s me, well, alright then, I suppose I’ll see you at Hogwarts then, yeah? Bye!”  She handed the book to Maisie, and as quickly as she had appeared, the girl was gone.

Still standing like a statue, Maisie’s eyebrows had risen as high as they could. The girl had been more talkative than all of her cousins put together, which was saying something since Maisie had twelve cousins and they were all hyperactive and loud-mouthed, with the exception of Timothy.

With a small shake of her head, Maisie went to find her Aunt and cousins with the hope they wouldn’t be too cross with her leaving them to get this book.

* * *

After Timothy and Maisie bought the books they needed (and wanted), and stopped off at Wiseacre’s to get other equipment, the quartet headed to Ollivanders. While earlier in the day it had been fairly cool and breezy out, the temperature had dropped several degrees since then and the clouds were starting to darken a bit.

' _Did the weatherman say it was gonna rain today?'_ Maisie thought as she looked up at the sky as if staring at the clouds would answer her question, perhaps they might as dark clouds usually did follow with rain.

Nemea mewed from her place on her owners chest - her front paws laid against Maisie’s shoulder, while her back paws were toward the middle of her owner’s torso and was being held up by Maisie’s arm. Maisie took her free hand and gave the sleepy half-kneazle a pet on the head as she followed close behind her aunt.

Ollivander's Wand Shop was located on the South side of Diagon Alley. It was a fairly old establishment, passed down throughout the Ollivander family for generations. The outside of the shop itself was narrow and a bit shabby, and above the door in peeling gold letters it said ‘ _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.’._   

Moira opened the door of the shop and waved the three children inside before following them in herself. The inside of the shop was almost as shabby as the outside, just as narrow and tiny, with a fine layer of dust covering nearly everything. All along the left and right walls were what looked to be well over a thousand wands stacked up to the ceiling. In the middle of the shop was a spindly chair, on which sat Mr. Garrick Ollivander. Mr. Ollivander was a fairly old man. He had short, wild white hair, equally white and wild eyebrows, and wrinkled, light-colored skin.

Upon realizing he had customers, he was quick to stand up and greet them. “Ah, welcome, welcome. Hello, yes. . .” The man paused as he took in the face of Moira. “Ah, Moira McGonagall! That’s right, you were chosen by an eleven and a quarter inches long wand, hard, made of redwood with a core of dragon heartstring, if I’m not mistaken.”

Moira politely inclined her head in agreement, “That’s correct, Mr. Ollivander. Today, I bring my son, Timothy Stebbins, and my niece, Maisie McGonagall, to get their first wands.”

Mr. Ollivander nodded in understanding before urging them to come further into the shop. He turned to Timothy first, “Well, Mr. Stebbins, step forward and hold out your wand arm.”

Timothy complied, holding out his left arm. Ollivander nodded and pulled out his measuring tape - it seemed to animate and immediately began measuring a variety of things: from his shoulder to his finger, then from his wrist to his elbow, next from his shoulder to the floor, his knee to his armpit, around his head, ultimately finishing after measuring between his nostrils.

“Right then, try this one. Twelve inches, solid, made of Beechwood, with a core of Dragon Heartstring.”

Timothy grabbed ahold of it and was quick to swish it - nothing happened. With furrowed brows, Ollivander quickly took the wand away and shoved a different wand to him.

“Try this, eleven and a half inches, supple, holly and unicorn.”

The boy flicked the wand, only to send one of the piles of wand boxes crashing down. He and his family jumped back from the sudden mess, while he looked back at the older man with a guilty expression on his face. “Erm. . . sorry about that. . . “

“No matter, no matter, how about this one, eh? Ten inches, slightly bendy, of pinewood and unicorn.”

It went on like this for several minutes - wands being pushed towards and hastily pulled away, vases and windows being broken and quickly fixed with a simple _Reparo_ \- until eventually a wand had finally chosen him.

“Ah, yes, of course, ten and three quarter inches, supple, made of pine with a core of unicorn hair. Should have known. Now, boy, this wand of yours likes to be used creatively and will not protest against new methods or spells. Unicorn wands tend to experience the least amount of blockages and fluctuations, as it’s a fairly consistent wand core. Yours is a bit sensitive to nonverbal magic which will undoubtedly prove useful, and perhaps problematic depending on your use of it, in your endeavors beyond Hogwarts. It should also prove adept at healing and potions.” The man paused briefly before shooing the boy away and gesturing for the older girl to step forward.

Timothy nodded to himself, storing the information away for future use, and placed the new wand in his robes pocket. ‘ _Healing and potions. . .’_

Maisie handed her half-kneazle to her favorite male cousin - knowing that Nemea would have already seen that he’s not a threat - and stepped forward, raising her right arm without having to be asked.

“Maisie McGonagall, was it? I remember your mother and father’s wands,” The man began speaking as he put his animated measuring tape back to work, “Malcolm, he was a good man. Held an eleven inches long, solid, hawthorn and unicorn wand; a complex and contradictory wand that proved adept at healing and curses. Such a shame about his death.”

Maisie frowned at his abrupt statement as the measuring tape measured all sorts of spots around her body. “Now, your mother, she holds a twelve and a half inches long, pine with a dragon heartstring, rather rigid if I remember correctly.”

As the measuring tape finished it’s work, Ollivander turned to face the girl, a wand box in hand. “Here you are then, an alder paired with a unicorn tail hair, swishy, and ten inches long. Give it a go!” He said excitedly as he handed the wand to the girl

Grabbing a hold of the wand, Maisie swished it towards the spindly chair that was in the middle of the shop. It promptly exploded, sending bits of metal flying in all directions.

The wand was abruptly pulled from her hand, “No, no, not that one then. _Reparo.”_ And at once, the spindly chair was back to it’s previous state. Ollivander searched through the stacks of wand boxes before gently pulling one out of the stack, walking back over to the girl and handing her the wand in the box. “Here, try this one, ten and a quarter inches long, hawthorn and dragon heartstring, slightly springy.”

Maisie grabbed hold of the wand and waved it aimlessly, a second later the flowers in the vase at the back of the shop burst into flames. With wide eyes, Maisie shoved the wand back toward Mr. Ollivander. A quick _aguamenti_ later, and the flames were put out. The flowers were unsalvageable, unfortunately.

 _‘Please don’t let this take too much longer. . .’_ Maisie thought to herself as she anxiously chewed on her dry, cracked bottom lip. The dusty shop was getting to her nerves, not that her nerves weren’t already on the road to being completely shot. Day long outings were just not her thing.

Ollivander furrowed his white brows in concentration before spotting a wand box that looked relatively new compared to the thousands of others.

“Ah, yes, this wand here is a somewhat recent creation made by my son a few years back.” With his hands clutching each end of the narrow box, Mr. Ollivander strode over to Maisie. “Hawthorn, twelve and three quarter inches, with a dragon heartstring core, and is surprisingly swishy.” He said matter-of-factly, watching her expectantly. When she hesitated to take the wand from the box, he nodded to it and said, “Well, go on then, Girl, give it a wave!”

Not wanting to irritate the old man any further, she quickly grabbed the wand. Just as the skin of her palm made contact with the wand, she knew it was the one when a pleasant warmth filled her entire being. Waving the wand experimentally, a beautiful bouquet of Acanthus flowers appeared out of the tip of her wand.

A grin split across her face and the sound of clapping filled her ears, “Well done, my dear! Now this wand is the epitome of a paradox. The leaves and blossoms of the Hawthorn tree are known to heal, while the branches smell of death. Interestingly enough, Hawthorn wands are particularly suited to healing magic, but they are also adept at curses. These sort of wands prefer a user with a conflicted nature or one who is going through a period of turmoil.”  
  
The old man paused, looking over the young girl as if trying to discover what secrets she might hold, before getting back to the matter at hand. “Well, no matter. . . Hawthorn wands are not easy to master, Girl, and are prone to backfiring if they are handled badly. So wield it wisely and carefully.”

Maisie nodded quickly in response, “Of course, Mr. Ollivander, thank you!”

The old man nodded his head in response before turning to her Aunt Moira. “That’ll be 14 galleons, Mrs. Stebbins.”


End file.
